


A Cup Full Of Dreams

by Earth_Phoenix



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, Falling In Love, Love, M/M, Minor James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Romantic Fluff, Sane Tom Riddle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 12:20:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18521407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Earth_Phoenix/pseuds/Earth_Phoenix
Summary: The Potters own a coffee shop where dreams really do come true.





	A Cup Full Of Dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dramatical_yaoi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dramatical_yaoi/gifts).



> Huge thanks to Red for Beta'ing this!
> 
> I really hope you enjoy this Drama! <3

“The Potters lived in a small, picturesque village full of thatched cottages and town squares and happy children running about. They were a kind couple, full of hopes and dreams. Their biggest dream was having children themselves, but years passed and no children came. 

“One day, Mrs. Potter was out in the garden when a note fell from the sky. The note told her to open a special coffee shop if she wanted her dreams to come true. She dropped her trowel and went running in to Mr. Potter who was sitting in an armchair in the living room, reading a book. Mrs. Potter told him all about the note.

“Soon after, a new coffee shop appeared in the village.  _ A Cup Full Of Dreams  _ quickly became popular in the village and neighbouring villages. People came from far and wide to taste the wonderful coffee.

“Early the next spring, Mrs. Potter gave birth to a healthy baby boy. The Potters’ dream had come true at last.

“The Potters watched as their son grew up, healthy and happy. The shop's reputation continued to grow, making the Potters very wealthy indeed.

“When the boy was fifteen, he invited the girl he liked to the coffee shop during the summer break from school. It was there that the seed of love began to grow in their hearts.

“On their son’s seventeenth birthday, Mr. and Mrs. Potter left him the shop, imparting on him in the importance of believing in your dreams.”

James stretched. Harry, who had told him stubbornly that he wasn’t tired and that he was going to be awake all night had fallen fast asleep during the story.

He ruffled his son’s jet black hair fondly. Harry had come as a surprise. Neither he nor Lily had thought about having children until the day when Lily, pale as snow, her fiery red hair in utter disarray. One arm was wrapped around her stomach and one covered her mouth as the smell of cooking bacon reached her nostrils.

“James,” she had said, her voice sounding tired. “I think—” Lily turned, running to the first-floor bathroom.

James had jogged after his wife, his brow furrowed in concern. “Lily, what?”

“I think I’m pregnant,” Lily said, leaning against the toilet bowl.

James, for the first time in his life, had nothing clever to say. No funny quips came to mind. No smart remarks. “Oh.”

Harry was now four and James wasn’t sure how he had lived his life without his son. Harry was his pride and joy.

“He’s asleep,” Lily said from the doorway, amused. “You don’t have to keep watching him.”

James ruffled Harry’s hair one final time before standing. “Sleep tight, kiddo.”

“Mhm,” Lily agreed, reaching out for James. “Otherwise how will you ever get any siblings?”

James grinned. “Maybe we should just dose him with a sleeping draught next time.” He ducked the swat Lily aimed at his head and walked quickly to his bedroom.

 

~^~

 

The following morning, Lily walked into the coffee shop, a grumpy four-year-old on her hip.  Harry, for his part, was holding his favourite stuffed toy—a brightly-coloured baby deer. 

Lily had learned quickly to not wash the deer while Harry was awake. Harry had turned big green eyes on her, his bottom lip quivering as she put Prongs in this washing machine. Harry had screamed and cried for the entire one hour and nine minutes that the washing machine worked. His eyes rimmed-red and throat sore. “MUMMY HURT PRONGS! BAD MUMMY!”

Harry had grabbed Prongs as soon as he was free from the machine. Harry did not care that Prongs was dripping wet (he hadn’t cared when he “bathed” Prongs in a dirty brown puddle and the dragged over some mud to “dry him” either.) Harry glared at Lily, thumb firmly in mouth, before dragging Prongs over to the sofa and falling asleep.

James, naturally, had been no help. While Harry had screamed, James had invited Sirius and Remus over to watch the show. Going as far as to step over Harry, who was busy pounding his tiny fists on the kitchen floor to pop on some popcorn.

“We’re hungry!” he said, holding up his hands to Lily who fumed.

Today was going to be a tantrum-free day, Lily had decided. She placed Harry down at a table nearest to the counter, making sure he had easy reach of colouring pencils and plenty of paper.

“Be good, OK?” She kissed him and darted behind the counter to help James.

 

~^~

 

Harry enjoyed being in the shop. The grown-ups were friendly and there were always children to play with. 

He stood in his chair, looking critically at his colouring pencils. On weekends when Uncle Sirius and Remus spent all day in the shop, a group of children his own age would come in. Uncle Remus had explained that they didn’t have mummies and daddies like he did. They were looked after by nice people instead.

Harry couldn’t help but notice that one of the children, a tall boy with dark hair, was always standing by himself and didn’t play with the other children.

Uncle Sirius had said that some people are lonely and that makes them sad and Harry didn’t want anyone to be sad!

As carefully as he could, Harry drew the dark-haired boy a picture filled with rainbows and butterflies and nice things to make him smile.

 

~^~

 

Harry grinned as he gave the other boy the picture he had drawn a few hours later. The boy looked confused and the other children giggled, but Harry didn’t care. 

“I’ll be your friend!” he informed the other boy. I’m Harry.”

“Did they make you?” the other boy asked angrily. Harry didn’t know who  “they” were.

He shook his head. “No.”

The boy looked at him, before saying stiffly. “I’m Tom Riddle.”

Harry grabbed Tom’s hand. “Let’s play!”

 

~^~

 

Harry ran through the village, a letter held tight in his fist. He darted with ease around kindly old Ms. Bagshot who swatted at him with her purse. He paused long enough to jump the fence that separated the village from the road that lead to the orphanage. 

Harry raced around the back of the orphanage, shoving the letter into his front jeans pocket. Grinning, he jumped onto the wall, using the pipes to assist his climb up to the fourth-floor window that he knew would be open.

Tom was sitting on the bed as Harry clambered through the window. “Tom, you won’t believe—!”

Harry stopped short as he spotted the white-haired old man that was sitting on the spindly wooden chair that was usually Harry’s seat.

“Headmaster Dumbledore.” Harry shoved his hands into his pockets, unsure how to greet the wizard before him.

“Good morning, Harry.” Dumbledore looked over his half-moon glasses and smiled at him. “I wasn’t aware you knew Tom.”

Harry and Tom glanced at each other, unsure of how much to say.

“Err…” Harry rocked from foot to foot. “I see Tom in the coffee shop sometimes.”

“Ah.” Dumbledore seemed to accept the half lie. He turned back to Tom. “Well, it seems you’re in better hands than I had hoped for. I trust you and Harry can collect the items you need together?”

Tom narrowed his eyes but nodded his head.

“Well then!” Dumbledore stood, beaming. “I’ll see you both very soon.” Dumbledore left the room, leaving two very confused eleven-year-olds in his wake.

As soon as the door closed, Harry turned to Tom. “You got in! I knew you would!” He flopped on the bed beside Tom. “I got my letter!” Harry retrieved the letter from his pocket and waved it in the air.

Tom calmly plucked it from Harry’s hand, opening it.

“It’s the same as mine.” He sounded somewhat disappointed.

“This is so cool!” Harry grinned, “I bet you’ll be in Ravenclaw because you’re so clever.”

“Do you think so?” Tom’s voice was hopeful.

“Yeah! Mum and dad say all the smart kids end up in Ravenclaw and you’re the smartest person I know.”

“Don’t exaggerate. Tom scoffed. 

He stood and walked around the small room. “Tell me again about the other Houses.”

Harry rolled his eyes playfully. “Again?” he teased. “Slytherin is for the cunning and ambitious, Hufflepuff is for dedicated and loyal, and Gryffindor is for the daring and brave.”

Tom smirked at Harry. “So you’ll be a Gryffindor then.”

“Yeah,” Harry sat up and swung his legs back and forth. “At least I’ll have a clever friend to help me with homework.” He smiled slyly at Tom.

“Oh no, I am not doing your homework for you.” Tom crossed his arms. “It’s high time you learned to do it yourself.”

“Sure,” Harry agreed and Tom sighed.

“Just bring me whatever you get stuck on.”

“You’re the best,” Harry said happily, “what are you going to buy first?”

The smile slipped from Tom’s face. “Can you buy second-hand wands?”

Harry slipped off Tom’s bed and stamped hard on the other boy’s foot. “How many times? Mum and dad will help you. They  _ like _ you. You’re my  _ friend. _ ”

Tom looked away, his throat tight. Harry hugged him and the two lapsed into silence.

 

~^~

 

Tom, it tuned out, didn’t end up in Ravenclaw. Harry could only stare as his best friend walked over to the Slytherin table and sat down next to a pale blonde boy. 

“There wasn’t a witch or wizard that went bad that wasn’t in Slytherin.” A tall red-head told him in a whisper.

Harry shrugged. “Sounds like rubbish to me,” he said.

He had met plenty of former Slytherins in his parents coffee shop. His mum had introduced to him to a man called Horace Slughorn, who had a portly belly but a face that always smiled. He had been Head of Slytherin while his mum had been at school. His mum said he was her favourite teacher.

He glanced up at the head table, Severus Snape, his mum’s best friend and Head of Slytherin, nodded curtly at him. Harry grinned. Snape and his dad had a rocky relationship but got along better (so his mum said) since Snape had been made Godfather to his little sister, Selena.

“Potter, Harry.”

The red-head pinched Harry’s arm and Harry flushed. If he kept staring into space, he would end up in Hufflepuff!

Harry hurried up the stool, where the Hat was waiting for him. He glanced over at the Slytherin table, flashing Tom a small smile.

 

~^~

 

Harry didn’t see Tom again until their first Potions class together. He dropped his bag carelessly at one of the tables and then walked over to the Slytherin side of the room and pulled a disgruntled Tom into a hug. 

“Har—Potter! Get off!”

Harry stepped away, laughing at Tom’s flushed face. “Sorry,” he said, “couldn’t resist.”

Tom glared, a blush still staining his cheeks. “You'd better pay attention, I am not going help you if you don’t,” he said, trying to brush off Harry’s embarrassing antics.

“Yes, Tom,” Harry said. He waved as he walked back over to the Gryffindor tables.

 

~^~

 

“Tom.” Harry pulled the younger boy into the nearest empty classroom. “What’s your deal?” he demanded. 

Harry had hoped that being Sorted into different Houses wouldn’t harm their friendship, but Tom had quickly started ignoring him on the weekends. Harry had found himself shut out of Tom’s life. It hurt.

Harry wasn’t about to let it continue.

Tom huffed, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I thought we were friends, but ever since you became a Slytherin—it’s like you don’t care anymore.”

Tom had the decency to look guilty. “I’m just trying to make friends.”

Harry’s face softened, he stepped closer to Tom. “You don’t have to shut me out.”

Tom shifted his feet uneasily, his shoulders hunched together. No matter what, Tom’s defences always dropped when he and Harry were alone.

“You’re still coming home with me, right?” Harry asked, hopeful. “Dad said we could help him ice the Christmas cakes this year.”

Tom raised his head. “Oh?” He tried to sound casual. Tom loved _ A Cup Full of Dreams’ _ homemade Christmas cake. Together with Harry, they had spent years hiding in the kitchens stealing slices of cake.

Harry nodded solemnly. “Yeah, he said we’re old enough to be trusted in the kitchens.  _ Even after last time. _ ”

“That wasn’t my fault that  _ baking powder  _ and  _ baking soda look the same _ ,” Tom grumbled.

“And that time you added salt, not sugar.”

“It still tasted OK!”

“Say something,  _ Mudblood _ ?”

Draco Malfoy strode into the bathroom. Tom glared at the youth, the back of his neck turning red. Harry had no idea what a Mudblood was, but it couldn’t be anything good if that was Tom’s reaction.

“We weren’t talking to  _ you _ , Malfoy,” Harry said coolly.

Draco walked over to the sinks and turn on that taps. “If this is the sort of riff-raff you’re hanging around with, Riddle, how do you expect anyone to take you seriously?”

Tom’s nostrils flared and he took a step away from Harry, who looked hurt. “I was just telling him to leave me alone.”

Without looking at Harry, Tom left the bathroom.

 

~^~

 

After that day in the bathroom, Harry had tried to reach out to Tom. To Harry’s dismay, the other boy refused to bite. Ignoring Harry at school and avoiding the coffee shop during school breaks. 

Harry had hoped that during their final year they would be able to reconnect. Tom, who had risen to from Prefect to Head Boy with ease, acted like Harry didn’t even exist.

It hurt, losing Tom to a bunch of stuck-up, arrogant, rude, self-satisfied prats. The look of sadness on his mum’s face when he asked what “Mudblood” meant was something Harry would never forget. He didn’t understand how Tom could be friends with people who thought like that.

The bell over the shop’s door tinkled and Harry was pulled out of his morose thoughts. He dropped the washcloth on the counter top that he hadn’t really been wiping down and headed to the front of the store.

“Hey Harry.” Hermione smiled warmly at him. “Are you busy?”

“Nah.” Harry winked “Perks of being the owners' son.”

“Has your mum made any more doughnuts?” Ron asked, peering into the almost-empty display case.

“I think so.” Harry ran a hand through his hair. “MUM?” he called, “RON WANTS DOUGHNUTS!”

Ron blushed a bright red from the roots of his hair to his broad chest. “Harry!”

Lily appeared behind the counter, her long hair piled up in a bun. “Hello you two, doughnuts did I hear? Should be ready in five minutes, oh and Harry, don’t forget to help your sister with her homework later.”

“Yes, mum,” Harry said, slipping the apron off and escaping to the customer side of the shop. “We’ll be in our booth.”

The trio made their way to the back of the shop where they huddled together in their favourite booth.

“Harry, have you heard about Tom?” Hermione asked gently once they were settled.

Harry raised an eyebrow. “I haven’t heard anything since we graduated.”

Hermione drummed her fingers nervously on the table. “He’s working at Borgin and Burkes.”

“Tom?” Harry asked, baffled. “Are you sure?”

Ron nodded from the seat next to Hermione. “Fred spotted him in Knockturn. Reckons he’s in deep with Dark Magic.”

Harry’s face fell. “That’s…” his mouth was suddenly dry, he tried to speak but couldn’t. He should have tried harder, he thought. Should’ve kept trying to be Tom’s friend and maybe—

“Don’t you dare sit there and blame yourself,” Hermione said sharply, “we all make choices. He’s chosen his path.”

Harry slumped in his seat. “I guess.” He poked at the table.

There had been times, glimpses during school where it had almost felt like something could have happened between them. Tom would brush against him in hallways. They would be lined up outside a classroom waiting for a professor to arrive and Tom would grip his hand and squeeze. Moments where their eyes would meet and the school would fall away.

“Here you three go!” Lily set down a plate full of freshly-cooked doughnuts on the table, along with cookies and milkshakes.

“Thanks, mum!” Harry flashed her a smile. “Hey mum, it’s OK if I go out later? I need to pick some things up from Diagon Alley.”

Hermione gave Harry a shrewd look as Ron choked, having hastily swallowed a mouthful of doughnut.  Hermione smacked him hard on the back.

“Harry you’re an adult now, you don’t need permission to go out.” Lily surveyed her son. “Though I do ask you stick to Diagon and don’t wander off to other places.”

“I won’t,” Harry said, crossing his fingers under the table. “Promise.”

 

~^~

 

Harry waited a few days before heading out to see Tom. He kept looking over his shoulder, sure that his parents would catch him heading into Knockturn Alley and stop him. 

The Alley seemed perpetually dark, as though sunlight had never touched it. Harry walked slowly, doing his best to avoid street traders selling toenails and human spleens.

The bell in Borgin and Burkes tinkled softly. The shop was stuffy and dusty and Harry had to fight the urge to walk up to the counter and offer to clean the place. Tom stood in front of the counter, his back to Harry.

“Erm…” Harry cleared his throat.

“One minute,” Tom said without turning around.

Harry chewed on his bottom lip as Tom finished whatever he was doing and then turned to face him.

“What are you doing here?” Tom’s voice was cold, suspicious.

Harry shrugged, “I’m here to shop.”

“Well.” Tom folded his arms across his chest. “Let’s see what the Potter heir wants in a dark shop.”

Harry turned, eyes searching for something, anything that would suggest he was there for a reason other to see Tom.

He turned his nose up at most of the items on display, making Tom chuckle. “What’s this?” he asked.

“Ah.” Tom crossed the floor to join him. “The Ring Of Hemlock. Named after the plant of course. It’s said to seep Hemlock into the skin and blood of anyone of wears it, killing them slowly.”

“Oh.” Harry cocked his head, the ring was lying on a blue cushion. It was small and silver; it could easily be mistaken for an engagement ring. “For something so deadly, it’s pretty,” Harry said, not thinking, “like you.”

“You think I’m deadly?” Tom asked quietly.

“I don’t know what to think about you anymore,” Harry admitted. “Once I thought I knew you pretty well, turns out I didn’t know you at all.”

Tom bowed his head, “I think you still know me pretty well,” he said, not looking at Harry.

“Do I?” Harry pressed, desperate to know for sure.

“I want you to have something of mine,” Tom said suddenly. “Wait here.”

Harry browsed the shop as Tom disappeared into the back. Nearly all of the artefacts on display were beautiful, and all, Harry assumed, were just as deadly as the Hemlock ring. 

He paused in front of a pile of books. The spines were pristine as if they had never been opened. The little handwritten price tag next to them read:  _ The Cursed Books of Mors. Believed to have caused the deaths of over 7,000 people so far. No one has ever read these books and lived to tell the tale. Price on request. _

Harry glanced around the shop. He was the only person browsing and Tom hadn’t yet returned. He wanted to touch the books, to pick one up and start reading, his palms felt suddenly sweaty and he rubbed them on his jeans. He reached out—

“Harry no!” Tom grabbed his outstretched arm and pulled Harry bodily away. “Never ever go near those books, you idiot!”

Harry shook his head, trying to clear it. “Why do you have them on sale if you don’t want people touching them?”

“So some other idiot buys it.” Tom glared. “It’s like you walk around trying to get yourself killed.”

“I do not,” Harry said with a pout.

“Here,” Tom said before he smacked Harry around the head, “take care of them, please?”

Harry held out his hands and took the offered package. “What is it?” he asked.

“My diaries,” Tom said, looking away. “You said you weren’t sure if still knew me, well, here you go.”

“Tom!” Harry tried to hand them back. “I can’t just take your diaries!”

“Yes, you can.” Tom wrapped his hands around Harry’s. “You can read them or not. Just don’t chuck them.”

“I wouldn’t,” Harry said, voice thick. “I swear.”

 

~^~

 

“One salted caramel latte and one espresso coming up,” Harry smiled, his green eyes crinkling at the corners. 

The grey-haired wizard in front of the counter grunted, already searching his robes for his money purse.  Snow dropped on the floor and Harry sighed.

As a child, Harry had spent hours playing the coffee shop, making friends with the other children. As a teen, he hung around while doing homework, grumbling about school with his friends. He had always taken it for granted that coffee and sweets just appeared.

James and Lily had retired ten years ago, leaving the coffee shop in Harry’s hands. Owning the shop had made him appreciate the things he had once taken for granted. Cleaning up after the customers was one of them. Maybe he would hire a cleaner, just so he didn’t have to do it.

“Which will be—” Harry began, ringing up the coffees on the till.

“I’ll pay.”

Harry’s head shot up, his eyes wide. He knew that voice.

“Mr. Undersecretary!” the old man breathed, dropping his purse to the floor with nerves.

“Tom,” Harry said, his voice calm. “what brings you here?”

Tom pressed a small bag of gold on the counter. “This should cover the gentleman’s coffees and,” Tom gestured to the small queue of people, “theirs as well.”

“That's very kind of you.” Harry moved the money bag off the counter. “I’ll just—”

“Allow me.” Tom shrugged his heavy winter robes off and walked behind the counter. “A latte right?”

Harry stared, completely bewildered. “Yes, and an espresso.”

Tom rolled up his sleeves and set to work.

 

~^~

 

That night, as Harry closed up the shop, Tom was in the back washing up. Harry had watched in amazement. Tom Riddle, undersecretary to the Minister of Magic was standing in the small shop kitchen, suds up to elbows. 

Harry had worked in the shop as Tom eventually left Borgin and Burkes and travelled the world. When Tom returned he had taken up a job in the Ministry and began the rise to power.

Harry flipped the door sign to ‘closed’ and made his way back to the kitchen area.

“What are you doing here, Tom?” Harry sat on the counter, his head in his hands.

Tom continued to wash up. “It’s been a while,” he said quietly, “I missed you.”

Harry snorted; ‘a while’ indeed. Twelve years was more than ‘a while’ in Harry’s mind.

“Would you like a cup of coffee?” Harry asked, at a loss of what to do.

Tom looked over his shoulder at Harry. “I’d love one.”

Harry sucked in a breath and then busied himself with the coffee. “How do you take it?”

“Irish with three sugars.”

“Still have that sweet tooth, huh?” Harry teased as he set about making it.

Tom didn’t answer straight away, choosing instead to pull the plug from the sink and grab a towel to dry his hands. “I’ve always had a sweet spot for you.”

Harry frowned, “It’s been too long, Tom.” Harry turned to face the other man. “Do you think we’re just going to meet up once a decade to check in with each other? I can’t live like that, Tom.”

“I know.” He walked across the small kitchen to Harry. “I don’t want to ask you to. I messed up in school. I left you behind and I shouldn’t have. I wanted to redeem myself. To prove you I am worthy of your forgiveness before I ask for your love.”

Harry looked away, his eyes wet. “You’re so stupid.” He laughed, low and hollow. “For a genius, you can be so dumb sometimes. You never had to prove anything. Never had to redeem yourself. I love you. For better or worse, I do.”

Tom cupped Harry’s face in his hands gently. “All I’ve ever wanted—is  _ you _ .”

“You’ve always had me,” Harry said in a whisper.

Tom brought his lips to meet Harry’s in a tender kiss.

Behind them, the old coffee pot glowed, as another dream came true.


End file.
